Cheryl and I are back at the Hotel Costa Calero in Lanzarote with its 4 wonderful swimming pools. My first visit here was in 2013, a self organised training camp where I recorded all my lengths and swam about 5 kilometres a day. This is my 7th trip since then and as I sit post dip by the exquisite 40 metre saltwater pool, watching its visitors come and go, I reflect on how things have changed for me in the water, how much less swimming I do now and how much more good it does me.

I observe people that see themselves as proper swimmers, training, and see how easy it could be for them to make the changes I’ve made. All that’s stopping them is their idea about what swimming is and should be. What appears to be missing is the joy of being underwater, slowing down and letting everything happen, instead of fighting the water and forcing the body against its true nature.

One guy attacks the water with hand paddles and flippers. Splash splash splash. There seems to be a kind of anger in it. He might say he feels better for it.

Another turns to breathe every two strokes, wearing a nose clip and twisting his neck to breathe, distorting his face by making a Popeye shape with his mouth, but doing his genuine best to swim an efficient front crawl.

They could get so much more from their swims if they did away with this effort. This is crystal clear when you’ve been through it and come out the other side.

The sparkling, transparent, buoyant salt water is……Here comes another one, a young lad going as fast as he can, a correct enough stroke for the swimming teacher at the leisure centre, but straining his shoulders with his striving, gasping for breath at the end of each length. He could think about an openness in his shoulders, a widening of his back. But trying to help him improve what he’s doing would be futile. He needs a change of approach.

This magical element is there to support you, young man. And you have all the ability you need for that – too much ability for you to see it. That’s what I was like when I was his age, what I’d tell my younger self.

What do I do, these days? Not very much. I float about and I do a lot of breaststroke underwater, coming up when I need air and breathing in through my nose. I kick my hands forward, very gently, so it’s more about my legs than arms. I allow my limbs to dangle and I go really slowly, a quest for speed absent. I rest my head and caress the water with my hands and feet. Swish and move.

When I get out there’s a sense of openness and freedom where in 2013 there was a temporary post swim exhilaration, some muscle stiffness and the threat of a headache.

What does it feel like to let yourself float in the water, to let the water support your head and allow movements and breathing to happen instead of forcing them both? It feels very good. Mission accomplished. I’m off for a mojito.

In our next post, more detailed observations about the Costa Calero swimmers we watched from the poolside.